Snape's Anguish
by StoryMing
Summary: Severus Snape, leaving Hogwarts in the immediate aftermath of Dumbledore's death, reflects on what has happened. I wrote this shortly after Half Blood Prince came out and I was bouncing off the walls trying to figure out what was going on with Snape. It is my first (up till now, only) piece of fanfic. Reviews appreciated. All usual disclaimers apply.
1. Chapter 1

Severus Snape, former Potions Master and Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, apparated with a soft *pop* just outside the darkened windows of the store known as Borgin &amp; Burkes on Knockturn Alley. He did not stop or slow down, but hurried swiftly on past narrow corners and gloomy passageways, into the starry night. He was closely followed by a pale blond teenage boy who came rushing out to meet him. Draco Malfoy was looking even paler than usual, and appeared to be trembling uncontrollably.

"You- you did it," he faltered, his tone a curious mixture of shock, admiration, resentment, and sick fear. "You- actually- killed… I- just couldn't, and you-"

"I told you I was sworn to protect you," the older man snapped, cutting him off impatiently. "Now hurry Draco, we haven't much time. When the Dark Lord learns that you have failed in this task—" He did not elaborate. He did not need to. Though by far the newest and youngest of the Death Eaters, Draco had seen enough of the Dark Lord's ways by now to know what sort of fate awaited those who failed him.

"Narcissa," he called softly, "Narcissa, it is I, Severus!" A tall thin woman emerged from the shadows and stepped toward them.

"Severus," she whispered, "Severus, what-?"

"Here is your son. I have kept my Vow. Now _LISTEN_. You are going to have to go underground. Albus Dumbledore is dead—" for a fraction of an instant, his face held an uncharacteristically taut, strained look; but next moment it was blank, inscrutable as ever. "The task is done, no thanks to Draco, but you are both in grave danger all the same. I know Dumbledore had plans to hide you both, he confided them to me. And I think they can still be carried out; borrowed, as it were, from the Order…" Quickly, he told them what must be done. As he spoke, he drew from his robes a small phial containing the infusion of wormwood and powdered asphodel, prepared and ready, by which- if all went well- mother and son would be shielded from the wrath of the most powerful dark wizard ever known...

Returning afterwards to the tiny rundown house, the very last on Spinner's End, in which he had made his home (such as it was) for the past 16 years, Snape carefully checked all the usual nooks, crannies, and hidey-holes for the presence of Wormtail, and any other magical bugs that might be concealed there. Finally satisfied that he was alone at last for the first time in hours- since his final departure from Hogwarts- he collapsed into a chair, and allowed the mask, which was his only safety outside, but which he felt just now would suffocate him if he had to wear it a moment longer, to fall away for a time.

As he sat, head gripped convulsively in his hands as though he were grappling with an enemy, the full impact of the night's events- all that he could not, must not, allow his thoughts to come anywhere near when in company- came crashing in on him. Over and over again in his mind's eye, he could see: a flash of green light, the silver white hair and billowing robes sailing out the tower window…

Why? Why him? Why _this_? Dumbledore, the only one who had ever trusted, ever truly believed in him—at that moment, he had felt he truly hated him for making him do this… almost as much as he hated himself for complying.

True, that potion guarding the horcrux was nothing any bezoar could have cured. There was no antidote known to Snape, master of potions though he was, that could have saved him. But to raise his own wand, and with his own hand perform the curse which—which… he shuddered. Stopped. It did not bear thinking about.

_"Severus... please..."_

He got up and began to pace restlessly up and down, up and down the tiny sitting room, lined with its wall-to-wall shelves of books, nearly bumping his head on the dim candle lamp hung low from the ceiling. He could not stay here. Surely the Ministry, or the Order- most likely both- would be turning up to apprehend him before long. He would have to leave. Soon. …But not yet, not just yet.

_And what now, Dumbledore,_ he thought. _What of your plans?_ Now, now that it was done, and he had given up- sacrificed, in one blow, whatever of honor or reputation or prestige he might ever have had among the wizarding community at-large? Now, when no member of the Order would ever hear a word in his favor again? And for what? To keep him alive? Make him fulfill that accursed Vow so that he, Snape, would not have to die? What good of that? What use was his life to him anyway? Had he _asked_ to be spared? Was it only Dumbledore, then, who was permitted to throw his life away-?

"Stop this!" he told himself furiously. He had to get a grip- HAD to. He could not afford to be weak. Too much was at stake. If he had not the strength of mind to conceal—if his own prodigious talent for occlumancy, matched against one whose skill at legilimency had perhaps no living equal, was insufficient to keep his true thoughts from leaking out… all would be lost.

No. He **_would not_** be the coward that the Potter brat had called him.

He tried to think of the plans Dumbledore had confided in him, of all there was left still to do- but a sudden image of merry blue eyes twinkling through half-moon spectacles flashed through his mind; and a familiar voice speaking words of confidence-_ "I trust Severus Snape"_\- sounded in his head; and all at once it hit. Like a blow to the stomach, sharp as any Cruciatus curse; agony such as he had felt only once before in his life… the night Lily died...

Just managing to choke out a broken "Muffliato!" Severus Snape threw back his head as if he had been a werewolf, and rent the air with cry on cry, howl upon inaudible howl of misery, and horror, and anguish, and grief.


	2. Epilogue (Coda)

_Some while later, as the rays of the early morning sun steadily infiltrated past the blinds and drapes at the windows to fall on the prone form of Dumbledore's killer, and most loyal adherant, Severus Snape suddenly looked up, astonished._

_…Was that- _phoenix song-_ he heard?_


End file.
